


Baby Blues

by thingamawhatsit



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e12 Last Refuge, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Missing Scene, baby Len, mental health stigma, self stigmatization, teenage Mick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingamawhatsit/pseuds/thingamawhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick, understandably, has issues. Currently he also has possession of a baby, so getting a temporary hold on his issues is kinda important.</p><p>A quick one-shot between being handed baby Len, and Mick’s first real conversation with himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Blues

Maybe Mick went full on Looney Tunes after the fire. It seems like it would make more sense than…fuck, everything.

He killed his parents.

He killed his parents, and these people _give him a baby_.

The girl, Sara, ends up being given two of her own before he can convince her to take the thing, like some kind of super fucked up Home Economics project.

Fuck. He failed that class so bad. What's the equivalent of an F when they give you an actual baby?

Dead. Dead babies would definitely be an F.

He doesn't want to have a dead baby. He doesn't want to be the one that fails and kills it.

Seriously, he killed his parents, and these people _gave him a baby._

Who the fuck does that?

It's not even some regular baby. It's a just popped out, head still soft and funny shaped, baby blues that don't really see a thing yet _baby,_ baby. He knows, 'cause Sara made this worried frowny face when she got hers, and when she got a closer look at his.

"Babies I've done," she said, "but newborns…they look like they should all be in a hospital still."

What if he sneezes on it? What if he gets the baby sick, and since it's all _new_ with no immunities built up or anything it just…dies?

He wants to light something on fire. With everything that's happened, with everything he's done, he still wants to fucking light stuff on fire.

He could do it. He has a book of matches tucked into his socks. There's not much flammable in the metal room, sure, but the baby blanket would go up in a second.

Mick shivers, and holds the little thing closer to him, three parts horrified and one part resigned that he even had the thought. He hates himself.

He killed his parents. He doesn't want to kill a baby too.

Sara is dealing with the other two babies. Cleaning little baby butts and rubbing little baby backs, and Mick is just…done.

He finds a corner back between metal crates. Not immediately visible from either door to the room these crazy people threw them all in.

Slowly, carefully, he slides down the wall, until his shoulder is wedged into the corner, and his knees create a little pocket of space for the baby. It's been sleeping since they gave it to him, but something about sitting down must wake it up. Mick watches with wide, terrified eyes as the baby yawns, and stretches its little fists out.

Everything Mick touches burns, and they gave him a baby.

It's a spiral of thoughts inside his head. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. His chest tight, like his breath is caught inside and it wants to ignite, explode out through his breastbone. His skin tingles along his arms and through his hands, pins and needles and dancing little flames.

And the worse he feels, the stronger the urge is to just reach into his socks and pull out the matches, to get lost in the fire. To let the fire burn away every thought and feeling in his head until there's nothing left.

He killed his parents, and they gave him a baby, and he doesn't want to kill the baby too.

The baby blinks up at him, its little eyes working hard to try and focus on Mick's face. Its little hands grasp at the air, trying to touch Mick, and he feels his heart constrict.

If the baby can try so hard to focus on him, maybe he can try and focus on the baby instead of the sirens call of matches and fire.

The baby is a warm little presence in Mick's arms, almost like a little flame himself. And his baby blue eyes remind mick of the low setting on a gas stove, when the flames are tiny jets of heat.

He's not sure this is working well.

He tries to give the baby a smile, because babies learn how to do faces from the people around them, right? He doesn't want to teach the baby all the angry, closed off faces Mick usually sees in the mirror.

He doesn't think he smiles right though. It feels lop sided and wrong on his face.

The baby seems to like it either way. It makes a happy little gurgle noise. Mick shifts so the baby is in one arm, partly propped up on his knees, and gives the babies searching hand one of his fingers.

The baby grabs, and gurgles again like holding onto Mick's finger is the best thing in the world. Which - considering it got kidnapped by crazy people that entrusted its safety to a psycho who recently burned his own family to death - maybe holding onto someone's hand is pretty nice.

Mick doesn't want to kill a baby. More than that Mick doesn't want to kill _this_ baby, who thinks playing with Mick's fingers is the greatest thing ever.

So Mick stares down at the baby, and the baby stares up at him, and Mick fights back the urge to watch the world burn around him again and again.

And as soon as someone takes the baby from him, when they get to some creepy kid farm run by Mary Poppins, Mick pulls out his book of matches.

And before he gets lost in the flame he spares a thought to hope that next time he's the only one that gets burnt.

Because he knows, however much he might want, there's always going to be a next time.


End file.
